back and I can see the bruise forming nicely from her effort. I force her face up with my nose and press my lips to hers hungrily.
Her hand caresses the back of my neck, brushing my quills backwards and coming to rest on one of my dorsal spines. “You get turned on by some interesting things,” she comments, nibbling at my upper lip.
When she licks one of my fangs, my arms stab under her and squeeze her up tight.
She gasps.
I start to loosen my grip, but she stops me. “Don’t change position! This—what you’re doing with your—grinding on me—”
I could manage this better if I was propped up on my hands, but she’s turning insensible, her mouth falling open, her back draped over my arms like her spine is broken. Her eyes are rolling up in her head with every one of my strokes.
I’m grinding her clit with my pubic bone. Rather than bounce her under me with my thrusts, I begin to rub her with enough force she should burn through the other side of the mattress.
Her moans of delight tell me she won’t mind.
She squeals when she orgasms, and the sound excites me. My teeth close over her neck before I realize what I’m doing.
No! NO—Do NOT bite her.
Isla doesn’t recognize the danger. She’s panting and purring and her hand is lazily hugging my ribs. She feels so small and fragile under me. She’s so trusting as I cover her, and it makes me feel powerful. Makes me feel more crazed.
And I need to finish this before I thrust her sore. I raise myself up on braced arms and adore the way her eyes hungrily travel up my muscles, from wrists to my shoulders, all of me so much wider and heavier than her. I feel dominant and protective, hunkered over her smaller body like this. With powerful claps of my hips to hers, I ride her until I’m coming on a bellow that shakes stalactites down.
And with a vicious snarl, I lunge up and sink my teeth into the headboard, splintering the wood instead of sinking into her tender skin.
***
I lick Isla clean. Sweat, fluids—and when I come to her ankle, intending to kiss her diminutive alien toes, I find blood.
The metal cuff has rubbed a raw patch on her thin skin, rubbed it so roughly that the mark has begun to bleed.
Growling with sick displeasure, I lick the wound and ignore Isla’s assurance that it’s “fine.”
I turn and take the key from the low stand positioned by the head of the bed. I set her leg free, and give her a silent look of warning. You can run now, but I will chase you if you try to leave me.
She doesn’t scurry back and attempt to escape though.
She sighs lustily. “That was gooood.”
I prowl up her body, kneeling astride her. She pats my stomach—then fondles the muscles there. “I am so keeping this.”
Hope curls in me, because it sounds as if she truly means it.
Her soft human palm slides lower. I rumble a warning as her hand tries to wrap around my member. I’m sensitive enough to hesitate—but willing to have her touch me, and willing to serve her if she wants me. She squeezes. Then she squeezes again, drawing her hand down my shaft. She gives it another squeeze at its base. “There goes the opportunity for testing,” she says teasingly.
“And what,” I growl, drawing her around the shoulders until I raise her to sitting in front of me, “are we testing?”
She gives my shaft another squeeze, making my cock jump. “I was trying to see if my fingers could touch.” She grins up at me, a wicked look heating her eyes. “They can’t.”
I uncurl her fingers from me and bring her hand up to my mouth to—
Nip it.
—kiss it gently. “Be careful. You might want to rest your body while you can, because I don’t intend for either of us to sleep at all tonight.” I lean down to take her mouth. “Should I feed you before I feast on you again?”
“I’m loving the way you think—but actually, my imminent need is to pee. Up, up.”
She pushes at me and I rise off of her, letting her off the bed. “The elimination closet is there.”
Her eyes are so expressive. They dance with humor and disbelief as she mouths, “Closet?” and minces for a few steps.
When she sees me watching her, eyeing her for signs of pain, she tosses me a smile and lengthens her